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It’s kind of funny that it’s called a cage. They’re supposed to keep the dangerous things in, right? Separate the spectators from the fighters, yeah? So why…
Why is it when I’m up against her, I feel more in tune with the crowd?
The shoddy ventilation shakes the fencing, and the hardly hushed whispering cheers rattle the ring. Two names echo out, heard loud enough even from outside the Fight Club. Two fighters circle each other. Steps falling into a strange rhythm with the voices outside the encirclement.
Excitement tempered with one step after another.
Stay loose, stand firm.
He does a couple hops for good measure. On his toes, the soles of his dirty boots are a little less planted to the floor.
Breathe in, breathe out.
His eyes are back on his target.
No, not a target…But an opponent.
Luka’s heart beat faster.
Relax, relax.
No, no. Not an opponent either. But a friend.
He shook the rising stiffness out of his arm. Threw a couple shadow punches for good measure.
Not a friend, but more than that.
Those yellow eyes of ichor, focused on him and him alone. His body felt warmer now. Less lukewarm when she looks at him like that. Her bat twirls in response to her fists. Her heels quietly clicking against the surface. The young lady he locked eyes with, countering the fiery blue with molten yellow was not a target, not an opponent, no longer a friend. And right now:
Not his girlfriend either.
The two stopped in their tracks, facing each other one more time.
“So, loser’s buying?”
“Yep.” Stelle did a mock swing of her bat. There was a dull shine to her eyes at the promise of a reward for winning. That only got Luka more revved up. She thinks she’s already won?
Mr. Dig’s voice cut the tension. “Fighters at your ready!”
…
“On one corner, we’ve got our reigning champion, Luka…–”
“Ahem. ”
“--I mean: Our peerless, reigning champion, the Moltammerville warrior, the defeater of evil… Luka!”
The crowd cheered his name. Credits flew from one hand to the next. The youngsters watching– stacked on each others’ shoulders, shoved their sign with his name on it into the air.
Mr. Dig barely quieted them down long enough to introduce his opponent.
“And on another corner, our hero of Belobog, Stelle…–”
“Ahem.”
Mr. Dig sighed.
“Our hero of Belobog," He corrected, "The Stardust Ace of the cosmos, The Galactic Baseballer…Stelle!”
Her arrival was met with awe and amazement. Welcoming back the Trailblazer from her travels abroad. Their friendly, straight-faced hero had returned with open arms for some, and a potential payout for others. Credits crossed over from one bet to another. Some fans expressed their desires to be stepped on by her, to which Luka shut that down real quick.
“Guys, please. She’s taken!”
Mr. Dig hushed the crowd once again, with mild concern about the Underworld residents’ barely contained fetishes. “Anyways…
We’ve got our fighters and fans ready to see this match in full swing! Bettors, place your final votes down and take a step away from the fence. This one’ll be a doozy! Fighters at your ready…
BEGIN!”
Luka moved first. Quickly pushing off from his right, launching him into a quick jab to the left. A little too obvious but still quite close as it narrowly missed Stelle’s shoulder. The passing of soft clothing material grazed his knuckles. Luka smiles, not letting up in the slightest. One, two, three strikes in, his fists whizz past her as sharp cuts of wind– yet Stelle remains unshaken. But it did get her on her feet. Sliding and stepping out of his reach. Her cold gaze fetching every fist thrown her way spurred him to step up for closer combat– tightening his stance and keeping this barrage up.
Luka just needs a couple seconds to throw off, but against the girl known as the hero of Belobog…Chances are, he won’t get that time. Stelle then kicked back– far enough out of his range. Her heels barely scraping the fence’s interior. The crowd’s awe shakes the tiny cage.
He didn’t land a single hit on her.
But the determined grin on his face remains. Just then, Luka instinctively backs up, narrowly missing the sudden swing of Stelle’s bat. He threw up a high guard, ready for her retaliation. And Stelle delivered. Rushing in, she strikes from below. A loud shriek from the excited crowd can be heard when the first sparks begin to fly. Luka stepped back; there was a scrape on his wrist, but a good block nonetheless. Stelle doesn’t give him enough time to recover though, swinging again and again– broader, wider strokes at his sides, forcing Luka to weave around with every step.
Still quick as ever with that bat, thought Luka, surprised by how quickly she can adapt to his movements. Slowly but surely, Stelle was pushing him around the ring. If he dropped his guard on one side, she’d break his guard with a homerun hit. If he focuses on the front, she’d flick her wrist and jab the tip of the bat right in his center of vision– discombobulating him long enough to push him back.
There hasn’t been any damaging hit to his skin, yet a jolt ran through his spine at the morbid thought of his face connecting with the barrel of that bat.
Even scarier still, she was completely cold in her approach. Giving nothing away in her own stance and completely focused on breaking Luka’s down.
Think Luka, think!
He grit his teeth and took her attacks. He demanded better from himself, but thinking was hard. In front of her, Luka was running on pure instinct.
Her eyes, look at her eyes and know what she’ll do next!
There wasn’t any nervousness there. No apprehension, or fear. Not a smile or a bead of sweat down her face. Unshaken by the roars of the spectators, and refusing to be pulled by the lust of an enticing fight. Her movements were just that. Simple and pure. Just hit after hit, nothing more. No final strike, or finisher just pushing relentlessly–
Wait–
If that’s the case…
Luka exhaled. And instead of guarding, he tilted. Driving his left hand right into a palm strike.
Stelle, surprised, stumbled. She was quick, that much was certain, but her strikes only had so much force behind them.
He’s made an opening, and instinctively dove for it-- quite literally. Kneeing the bat’s handle up and dropping below its strike range. A perfect uppercut in view.
“There!” This is it!
But Stelle wasn’t done. With what little hold on the bat she had, she spun it by her fingers, quickly pointing it down. And at that very moment sparks flew again.
Luka grimaced at the noise. The bat got in the way. It was a weak block, yes. But instead of sending her flying, he had only thrown her pushed a bit, forced to contend with the scathing back of his knuckles.
“Heh. Nice call Stelle.”
He watched her get up, still smiling. But now his arm was shaking. The crowd’s roars seemed to vibrate the tiny circuits within.
Stelle picked up her bat. A quick recovery; she stared at her assailant. Try again.
Luka nodded, glad to see her stand back up.
“Ready?”
“To win, right? You bet.”
He laughed. How she could say that after getting knocked down was anyone’s guess. But seeing as Oleg had once said the same thing about him, Luka was starting to get an idea of why he loved sparring with her so much.
Luka moved in again, and at the twirl of her bat, Stelle met his punches. Delighted, the crowd went wild again. Luka punched harder, positioning his feet further inward at every inch he gained on her. His metal arm whirred and creaked at every parry. She back stepped, winding up a swing with another switch and twirl. As close as it got, Luka feints; following its trajectory, he cuts from the left, striking her shoulder.
Oooh~!!
The crowd's gasps took the place of Stelle’s surprise as she stumbled back. His gaze hardens at her eyes widening from the impact.
“Ow.”
H-huh?!?! Whaddya mean ‘ow’?! Luka huffed. A really good punch like that and all it seemed to do was dishevel the mess of ashen gray hair over her face.
But he smiled all the same.
“You’re something else, you know that?”
She gave him a thumbs up.
Aw man, I want to be anywhere else but here with her now. Contrary to his faltering fighting spirit, Luka put his fists up.
Alright we’ve given them enough of a show, I’m finishing this.
Luka pivots back. His stance lowers. His arm quiets to a low hum.
His eyes flicker to her wrist. Her grip tightens over the hilt. He looks back to her, and dives right back in.
At such a maddening speed that Stelle’s eyes couldn’t follow he closes the gap, and Stelle tosses up her bat readying her free hand. Wait, wait, wait! Is she going to bring out–?
But Luka’s body moved faster than his mind. It always did.
And with one blow—
What went down happened in a snap of the fingers.
Crouching into a catcher position Stelle snatches her bat back in mid air with both hands and squares up just in time to meet Luka’s fist slamming into its center with a loud CRACK.
A streak of blue burst out from the friction, shaking the two in their places. Hell the entire cage groaned at their battle. A wide-eyed Luka could barely keep the crowd’s roars, their pleas for him to win, their anger at taking so long, their cheers for Stelle, their confusion and awe at the spectacle before them, all of it, so much of it was barely being swept out of his ears.
But her…
Her eyes were only on his. She faced him, grimacing from the slight shock that ran through her hands and looked squarely at those fierce blue eyes. As hair-raising the contact was, as that harsh clash of layered steel screamed at their muscles to stop the two continued to stare each other down– even after they managed to peel apart from one another.
Stelle forced herself up again. She raised the charged bat to her opponent with a smile just for him.
Luka wiped the sweat rolling down his face. He took his fighting stance once more. The cheers behind him revving his arm waiting for another swing at things.
They had no plan, no idea what to do when they faced each other. All they knew as they darted towards each other was two things: The satisfaction of seeing a win for the crowd supporting them and the satisfaction of seeing each other supported by their once in an encounter fight.
“And the winner is…!”
Luka waited for Stelle to finish paying by the stairs. Tapping his foot and happily bobbing his head to an invisible beat.
“Heyyy, I know that face. Been a while Trailblazer. Lost another match?” She nodded, her voice the only indicator of her somewhat glum and irate mood.
“Yeah, Luka got one over on me again.” dropping some credits into Turner’s awaiting hand.
“Hehe well, win or lose I’m glad you’re always hankering for some grub right after a good fight.” He added, with a raised eyebrow behind his glasses at her purchase. “And a good sport about it too. Treating the winner to dinner?”
Another simple nod. As if she were thinking about something else, far away from here. But Turner just smiled when she gingerly picked up the large wrapped cloth from his hands.
“He’ll be here treating me next time I’m back.”
“Hahaha! That’s the Champion I know! Don’t let him underestimate you like I did, ya’ here?” Stelle gave him a firmer nod with crab in her mouth, waving goodbye.
“Thank you~” Luka could barely contain his excitement when he received the larger than usual cloth. Olm skewers, sausages and two rock crab legs.
“Mhm. Enjoy, you earned it.”
He nodded, happily munching down on his food. The savory juices of meat seemed to taste better after a good fight.
“You know,” He started, taking a bite from another skewer, falling into step with Stelle’s as they strolled throughout the Underworld. “Back there, in the ring I mean. Thought you were going to bring out that lance. Still not up for it?” His eyes shifted back to her chewing on some crab.
“I’m The Galactic Baseballer . Not, Frigid Relic Wielder of the Fiery Lance .” Luka nearly choked up a laugh at the name. “I have to stick to my brand.” She replied with the utmost seriousness to her words that Luka wouldn’t have laughed if her face wasn’t covered in crab crumbs.
“Right, right. I get it! I’d be like if I walked up with a pair of pistols to a fight. The kids would think I’m a– what did you call them again?” He dangled a skewer in his mouth, thinking. “Ah, that’s right– Galaxy Ranger!"
“Maybe. I’ve never met one myself yet. But it’d still be really cool, right?”
“Hell yeah! I’d go BLAM BLAM!! To all those Fragmentum Shadewalkers!” Luka jumped out, gesturing with finger guns to an imaginary monster, then blowing out its smoke. Stelle smiled, kind of happy he took a liking to her story about the Rangers, but he stopped.
“Ah…but if I carry them around like that, I might set a bad example, you know?”
“Hmm. Good point.”
Luka jumped back to her side, still perfectly cheery. “Ah well. I’ll figure it out somehow.”
When he looked back at Stelle, he noticed her face. It wasn’t much, just some crumbs really. He, without much thought to it, stuck his finger out.
“Hey, Stelle, you’ve got somethin’ on your face–” and at her name being called first, Stelle turned her head back to face him. Which ended up with Luka’s finger poking her cheek. The soft, squishy feel of her face after the long day of gazing at that mature, iron wall that was her face struck him harder than her bat.
Stelle blinked at him. Her face quickly turning red.
Wait, wait, wait. Whaaaat???
After trading blows, after getting screamed at by excited crowds, after all that sweat and nerve wracking tension in that ring… this is what gets her to change expressions?
“S-sorry! That’s my bad!” And he retracted his arm.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind. I think.” She quickly brushed off the crumbs with her free hand before opening up her phone, her eyes quickly looking away from him. To make up for it, Luka thought of something.
“Here.” Breaking the last sausage in half and placing it in his left hand, he offered it to her.
Stelle for her part, had pulled out her phone which was in one hand and was holding some snacks for those on the Express in the other, leaving her hands full. So, without much thinking, she opened her mouth and plucked it from his hand.
Uhhhhhhhhhh–
“Mmm, tastes good. Thanks Luka.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure thing!”
And the two went on about their date. The moment of seeing Stelle’s face look more cute than usual, and her eating off his hand like it was nothing. Even through his hand he could feel his heart racing through his shirt the same way it did in the ring.
Seriously, isn’t she more dangerous here than in the ring?
The only thing he wished for then was that he had used his other arm.